A Loaf Of Bread
by CatapaultChoice
Summary: What is this? Cosette arrested? Eponine leading a revolution? Marius working for the police? When did this happen! Working title. AU and OOC-ness galore. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**So, let me apoligize in advance, because I've got no idea whatever how this is going to turn out. It kind of stemmed from my little sister (who, by the way knows nothing about Les Mis except Jean Valjean stole a loaf of bread and Cosette is married to Marius) bugging my friend and me at the pool… anyway, she was being sarcastic—I think—and came up with this idea… and now I'm writing it. Don't know why.**

**Disclaimer—I own neither Les Mis (I don't know who does, but it's not me) nor the idea for this plot (As stated above, that is my sister's). On the other hand, I do own… well, nothing actually. Never mind!**

Just six inches. Only six inches. Six inches and a pane of glass. The thin and undernourished girl gave a shuddering sigh as she contemplated the wonderfully real, wonderfully solid loaf of bread in the baker's window. It was more than she'd had to eat in at least a week. How good it would feel to simply reach across those six inches and grab the bread! She raised a frail hand and pressed it against the window as though she could somehow make the pane vanish.

The sound of sudden laughter cut across her thoughts. Guiltily, Cosette turned away from the window. She ought to be returning to Madame with the things she'd been sent out to buy. She gathered the packages into her arms from where she'd placed them on the floor, and began the walk back to the inn.

The summer afternoon, quickly fading into twilight, seemed to mock Cosette's sour mood. Even the people of the little village—women exchanging gossip with their neighbors, men planning to meet for a drink, and children wrestling on the dirt paths—seemed so much more content than she could ever be.

Then she was back at the inn, and through the door—propped open to catch the summer breezes, and probably to rid the place of the foul smells its nightly customers introduced to it before tonight's arrived—she could see Eponine and Azelma sitting down for their evening meal, their mother standing near them, eyeing them with a loving expression Cosette knew would never be directed at her—not by anybody.

Something inside her broke. Perhaps it was the hunger, maybe something else, but she dropped the packages she was holding, and, leaving them lying in the dirt, took off in a dead sprint back to the bakers, into whose window she had gazed so longingly only a few minutes ago. She didn't stop when she got there, but smashed the glass and reached across the six inches of empty space to take the loaf of bread.

No one had stopped here until this point, mainly because the sight of the Lark breaking away from her typical state of don't-notice-me-please-don't-notice-me-ism and running anywhere was a strange sight. Now, she stared with wide, shocked eyes at the people who stared at her in quite the same way.

--

Prison? Prison for what? What had she done that was so bad? Taken a loaf of bread? Big deal! Five years for only that? She'd be thirteen by the time she got out of here!

Of course, things could be worse. Everyone, to the smallest children, knew that some prisoners had to go to horrible galleys where they were worked like slaves year round. At least she wasn't going there.

From the point of view of anyone watching Cosette, had anyone cared enough to do so, the little girl would have seemed no dfferent from how she had ever looked. Quiet, sitting silently, going where she was bid, staring down at the ground and twisting her fingers in an agitated fashion.

But she was really quite different. Something had changed inside her. She was seeing the world for how it really was for the first time. Before, her small world had extended no farther than the tiny village of Montfermeill, and the only people she ever saw for more than a few minutes at a time were the Thenardiers. She had felt sure that if she could somehow get away from them, she would find that the rest of humanity were much better. Now, she could see that this wasn't true.

And so she was for five years. Five years in which she had nothing to do but examine all she knew of the world, and declare it bad. As she grew older, she grew bitter. She was released when she was 13, turned out on her ear with nothing but the rags on her back.

--

She was sitting against a building on the side of the road as night set in, staring down at her fingers as she had down every day of her life since that summers day when she was eight. When it was almost completely dark, a group of boys had emerged from said building, laughing at something. One caught sight of Cosette and nudged his friend. The whole group of them approached her.

She did not seem to hear their taunts, see their rude gestures, or even smell the offensive odor that rolled from them in waves. They had given her up as a bad job and turned to look for more amusing bait, when she jumped to her feet and began to thoroughly wail on the closest boy, who happened to be over a head taller than her.

He might have been taller, but she was angry, and had not had anything to take the anger out on for years. Eventually she was pulled of the boy by one of his friends, but her victim was now lying still on the ground. Not dead, but very badly injured. All of them stared at him for at least a minute, and then as his friends turned to Cosette for revenge, they found that she had fled.

--

**Short, but whatever, just an intro. Also, I **_**know**_** they would not have put Cosette in prison for five years, but this is a fan**_**fiction**_**. Also, fair warning, the stuff in M. Sur. M. (Fantine dying and Jean Valjean being arrested) will happen in a couple of chapters, meaning five years later than canon. Just more AU stuff to make the story interesting. **

**Also, please do _not_ review. No, not reverse psychology-- I just always forget to read my reviews anyway, so it's a waste of effort. Especially if you want to tell me this story stinks, because I already know that.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, this chapter is late! Tee hee... I had this all typed and everything, I just haven't been on-line in a while... anyway, here's the chapter.**

Cosette had been traveling for days now, hiding her face whenever someone came near, whether out of shame or fear she wasn't sure. She was hungry, although she had been stealing and begging wherever she could. She had no qualms about either, anymore. But where to go? She couldn't keep wandering aimlessly forever; she had to find somewhere to stay eventually…

A small town somewhere. Not small enough that strangers would be noticed and give an undue amount of attention while passing through, but not large enough that someone could recognize her… Somewhere she could live safely, because she knew that if she was found again, she would be re-arrested for murder, or at least attempted murder. How stupid! But she had, of course, been put away for five years just for stealing some bread.

She didn't even like bread that much anyway. Kind of bland and tasteless. But returning to the point at hand…

After the aforementioned many days of wandering, Cosette came upon what seemed to be exactly the small town she had been wishing for. It was one of those towns that have come quickly to their own, in this case due to a thriving factory of some sort or another. The important thing, of course, was that as towns grow larger, people from all over, some simply moving about, some looking to start a new life, gravitate to them. Cosette would not be noticed.

But of course, with the odd luck that seemed to follow Cosette everywhere she went, she could not avoid being noticed. It happened like this. Even before she'd been in town a day, she heard the first snatches of rumor—concerning the mayor. Everyone spoke of his good deeds, many with awe bordering on reverence. Wherever the rare dissenting voice could be heard, it was quickly silenced by the multitude of mayoral supporters surrounding it.

So why wouldn't she want to catch a glimpse of him? She was curious, as anyone would be. And indeed, when she first saw the mayor, it was in a small crowd comprised mostly of beggars, who howled and pleaded for money or food. Along with new people, new poverty comes to a growing town.

He noticed her, for a reason she did not understand until later. She resembled quite closely her mother. She was surprised when he walked right up to her and asked for her name. Should she give it? Already, instincts of secrecy, the instinct of the hunted, had begun to settle into her. Perhaps because of said surprise, however, she answered truthfully, "Cosette."

"Where do you come from?"

"Montfermeill," she said, naming the only place she could remember living in that wouldn't raise awkward questions, as prison tends to do.

A strange series of expressions ran across his face as he examined hers. Finally he asked, quietly, "Will you come with me, Cosette?"

--

What she found, in the semi-dark room that the mayor lead her to, was a woman, unconscious and sickly looking. Cosette would have taken her for dead had there not been a doctor nearby, instructing a nun on (presumably) the care of the woman. "Monsieur, who is that?" asked Cosette, shifting uncomfortably in her bare feet.

"That is your mother, Cosette."

--

Less than twenty-four hours later, Fantine was dead. She had never woken up from the sleep she had been in when Cosette had first seen her, but passed on quietly during the night. Cosette watched as they buried her mother, the only spectator as a gravedigger dug a hole in a field full of the corpses of others who had no money to call their own.

She would have to leave this town, now that she was known. She would leave as soon as she could. She would—a hand on her shoulder interrupted her frantic thought process. It was the mayor. "Cosette," he said awkwardly, "I'm very sorry about your mother, she's been ill for quite some time, and I—I came to know her fairly well."

"Better'n I did," said Cosette, shrugging as though it didn't matter.

"Do you have anywhere to go, Cosette," he asked the girl, who glanced at him through shifting eyes, as though appraising him for an alternative motive. The expression on his face, however, brought her up short. Suddenly, she was eight years old again, watching Madame looking at Eponine and Azelma with an expression she knew would never be directed at her.

Except that now it was. And although she hadn't been able to recognize the expression when she was a child, she knew it now. It was the face of someone who genuinely cared about her. She swallowed the lie that had risen ready to her throat, and said, "No, I've nowhere to go."

"Come with me," he said, "I think I'll be able to find you a place."

--

But there was no time for that; because in the way that when one thing happens, invariably something else must follow it, a police inspector was waiting when Cosette and the mayor arrived back within the town limits (The graveyard being slightly away from the last row of houses). Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Cosette moved a bit away.

She didn't hear, therefore, what the conversation was about, but it seemed to have caused the mayor some worry, and when the inspector finally moved off, he told Cosette that he would have to leave to go somewhere that night, that he wouldn't be back until the following day, most probably, and that she would have to wait here for him. She acquiesced calmly. Surely, after all, a mayor had many more important duties than looking after random orphans.

--

It was midafternoon the following day by the time she heard—perhaps the last person in town to hear—that the mayor had been arrested. _Arrested!_ Time to leave, she decided, before someone caught up to her as well. She left town that night under cover of darkness. She had not gone more than a ½ mile out of town, however, when she saw someone moving quietly up the road ahead of her.

It was the mayor.


	3. Chapter 3

Cosette let out a little cry in spite of herself, so great was her surprise at seeing the mayor here, especially as he was supposed to be in jail. He must be incredibly good at escaping...

When he heard her cry, the mayor turned around and faced Cosette, who was suddenly struck with the similarities between him and a rabbit frightened by a twig snapped by a hunter. She could see him wondering what she intended to do now that she'd seen him, and then the sudden thought that struck him—why was _she_ out here so late? He must have chosen this darkly lit road for the reason that he had expected no one else to be traveling along it.

She probably would have moved on then without saying a word, if he hadn't spoken first. "What are you doing here?" he asked. She said nothing, still wondering what was best to say. She couldn't think of any real reason apart from the true one that he would believe. And if he was a convict himself…

"What are you doing?" he repeated, this time urgently, as though he couldn't leave before she answered him. She decided to try answering evasively.

"The same thing as you," she said. "Leaving."

"Why?" he said, not fooled.

The evasive approach wasn't working. Nothing for it but the truth.

--

Morning found the two traveling together towards Paris. Not Cosette's first choice of hiding places, but as the mayor—or, as she now knew his name to be, Jean Valjean-- pointed out, it would be the easiest place to enter without being noticed. She agreed, grudgingly, mainly because he seemed to know what he was doing, and so it would really be safer to travel with him then alone.

She couldn't believe that he'd been in prison for nineteen years. She'd seen convicts before, obviously, and typically it takes a lot less time than that to become bitter and hateful towards the world. He was an anomaly, that was for sure, but she found herself growing to like him anyway. When the two got to Paris, by unspoken consensus, they did not move their separate ways as they had both probably been planning to do since they first met up, but stayed together.

--

A few years passed like this—Cosette and Valjean lived together in a house with a woman who cleaned for them (Cosette, who had never been a naturally tidy person, was particularly glad that Valjean had taken away the money he had made as mayor when he left town in the dead of night). Valjean, who had suffered much more at the hands of the law than Cosette, chose to stay in the house most of the time, and venture out only after dark.

Cosette, on the other hand, hated the confining walls of their home. After most of her childhood had been stolen from her—either by the Thenardiers or the law—she spent all the time she could outside, doing whatever struck her fancy whenever she felt like doing it. This, she knew, rather infuriated the old man, but she didn't mind over-much.

In fact, a lot of things Cosette did annoyed him. Sometimes she wondered why he even consented to keep her around. Of course, there was the fact that he was a kind man, and probably wouldn't kick her out even if she murdered someone (okay, maybe then, but anything _short_ of murder…) She thought it might have something to do with Fantine. She knew Valjean had been fond of her mother back in the little town Cosette had found them in, and she often wondered if there mightn't have been something more to the relationship. Probably not, judging by his upright behavior, but one never knew, after all.

In any case, Cosette was glad she was allowed to make her home with Valjean, because whatever she sometime pretended, she liked the old man, and to her great surprise, occasionally caught herself thinking of him as a sort of father figure.

Of course, Cosette didn't know that even while she was reflecting on how Valjean had become a father figure to her, he was wondering how he had come to love her like a daughter. Neither communicated these feelings verbally to the other, but the signs were there, in any case. The irritability Valjean displayed whenever Cosette did something particularly unthinkingly, or the time and energy she put into persuading him to leave the house more often. The signs were small, but they were there for anyone to notice, had anyone been there to look.

--

There were, of course, other things happening in Paris during this time. Revolutionaries were planning revolutions, old innkeepers were losing inns, and grandsons were having falling outs with grandfathers. None of this, however, made any impact on Valjean and Cosette's ordered existence. Every so often they would stay in another house, just to avoid suspicion, but still they managed to keep out of the affairs of others. Even Cosette kept to herself while she was out of the house, moving around in such a way that, by the time anyone noticed she was there, she had gone.

The two had no contacts to the outside world, but neither minded. They had food, a home, and safety. Nothing else, they imagined, was needed. And, had it just been Valjean we were talking about, probably that would have been true and the story would have ended here, or else turned on to more interesting things. Cosette, however, was a bored teenager, who wanted all those things teenagers throughout the ages have wanted. Adventure, friends, and—dare we suggest—love?

--

**Omg, that was short. I've been trying to keep the chapters at least 1000 words long, but I really could not think of anything else to put into this chapter. The next one is all about what Marius has been doing in this strange little AU, and I didn't really want to start getting into that in this chapter, because it may get kind of long… **

**Also, may I add that the ring tone that's on my sister's cell phone is THE MOST ANNOYING THING ON THE PLANET?!**


	4. Chapter 4

In the city at that time, there was a boy/teen/man (Depending on your conception of those words) named Marius Pontmercy, who l

In the city at that time, there was a boy/teen/man (Depending on your perception of those words) named Marius Pontmercy, who lived with his grandfather and aunt. They were not poor, but they were not exceedingly rich, either. Upper-middle class, perhaps. Marius had been raised by his grandfather, because his father had been the kind of person his grandfather despised, and after his mother died the old man had threatened Marius' father with his son being disenheirited if he raised him himself.

Marius, however, knew very little of this. He knew that he had a father, and that his mother was dead, but he didn't know the exact details of why he no longer lived with his father. At least, he had no solid ideas. From the way that he occasionally heard his family speak of him, he realized that for one reason or another, his grandfather hated his father, and was ashamed that his mother had 'stooped to marry suck a man', to put it in his grandfather's words (although often enough, man was replaced with a much ruder word).

Why could this be? Marius wondered. The actual reasons were political, but Marius, sadly, did not know this, and from a young age he set his mind to work, wondering what on Earth his father could have done that would make his grandfather despise him so.

As he grew, his theories grew more comples, until he had practically convinced himself that his dad was some sort of super-villian (although he didn't use this word himself, as I'm pretty sure they didn't have super-villians then). When he was fifteen, however, a perfectly reasonable answer suggested itself to him.

His father was a criminal.

He could have laughed at how long it took him to realize this, but he did not (Which was good, because if he had laughed he would have looked slightly insane). But from that point on, there was a subtle changing in his manner whenever he thought about his parentage. A sort of feeling of shame that he had never felt before in all of his imaginings. There is, after all, something decidedly cool in thinking that you're related to a super-villain, even if you _don't_ know what a super-villain is. A criminal, on the other hand, is not cool at all.

It was only several years later that Marius' belief was shaken. His father had sent word that he was dying, and wished for his son to be near him when he finally passed away. Marius did so, reluctantly, driven by a sense of duty to his shameful parent rather than love.

It was here, at the side of the cold and unmoving form of his dead father, that Marius learned that it was an impossibility for his father to have been a criminal, for when he arrived, there were people (only three, but nonetheless…) in the house, all of whom seemed sad that the man was dead.

'This could not be,' Marius thought, 'if my father was really a criminal.' He never paused to consider that even criminals may have people who like them, and are sad at their passing.

He began to wonder once again what his father had done to offend his grandfather so, and, finally, he discovered what others had known for years. It was all political.

Marius couldn't help but feel a little bit dissapointed at this. Politics? That was what had ripped his family apart, and determined that he would not see his father until he joined him in death? And again his manner changed, although this time it was his manner towards his grandfather. While up to this point he had felt slightly cowed by his grandfather, he now felt a bit disdainful towards him.

He allowed nothing in his manner to relfect that he had changed in this matter, but something must have showed through anyway, because his grandfather in turn became shorter with him. All of this came to a head one mornin over breakfast, the results of which were Marius leaving the house and his grandfather storming around in a rage for days to follow.

--

And now Marius was forced to confront a difficult decision—where was he supposed to go? He had never had to do things like this for himself. All he had in his own name were 30 francs and the clothes he wore (Which, now that he thought of it were less than perfect for living poorly, as he was sure he would be forced now to do).

He thought all that day about where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do, as he wandered around the city or Paris, until, finally a ridiulous thought occoured to him. He remembered how ashamed he had been when he had thought his father had been a criminal (how foolish his boyhood nightmares seemed now!).

No, he couldn't do that…

But, after all, it would practically kill the old man… his _grandfather_…

Yes, Marius decided, there was nothing for it, this was what he would have to do.

He would join the police.

--

Surprisingly enough, once he had been at it for a few months, he discovered that he was very good at this. He seemed to have some sort of instinct that guided him to where his quarry hid. And, sure he was laughed at by the others he worked with, for being so intent on what, to them, was simply somewhere to go for a few hours and then bring home a few coins. But he didn't mind. He actually _enjoyed_ this.

--

**Ugh! Short again! Ah well… In case you couldn't tell by how badly this chapter was written, Marius is my last favorite character (Although I do like his name) and I hate writing him, so any odd things in this chapter can either be put down to trying to get through this as quickly as possible, or some of Marius' stupidity rubbing off on me. **


	5. Chapter 5

It was on one of the numerous average, typical days in Cosette's life that she first saw _him_. Well, probably the phrase 'first collided with him and after that looked up and first saw _him_' would be a lot more accurate, because that was how it happened.

Cosette had barely stepped out onto the street near her house when she collided—well, actually he collided with her—with a young man moving at full speed down the street. She looked up and saw _him_. He had the most ridiculous looking hair she'd ever seen, and his face was red and covered in sweat, probably from the running he had been doing when he ran into her, but there was something about it…

--

Marius, for his part, thought the girl was beautiful. And so, being the strange boy/teen/man that he was, stuttered a bit and ran off, leaving a very confused Cosette still on the ground. Typically he wouldn't have been so rude, but he was a little flustered…

Who was that girl? He was sure he had seen her before, which was strange because he was sure that he would have remembered the situation around seeing someone who looked like that… and he couldn't remember where he had seen her, only that he definitely had. But where…

At this point, his mind digressed into an entirely different train of thought, one which can only be described as 'love-sick-puppy-thoughts'. Eventually, however, he realized where he had seen her face before. A badly drawn sketch of a girl, wanted for attempted murder a few years ago, called Cosette.

He was in love with one of _them._

--

Cosette, too, could not believe that she was falling in love, as she undoubtably was. Now that she came to think of it, it was very strange to be falling in love with someone she had only seen for a few moments, but there was also the fact that she couldn't get the image of his face out of her mind…

She wondered if he was thinking of her, as well.

She tried not to show that anything unusual was happening in her, but she knew that she was doing a very poor job of it. Valjean had even noticed, and she was sure she had not said anything to him.

She spent more time than she had before out of the house, which she guessed was what had made him suspicious, but she couldn't help spending a disproportional amount of time looking for _him_. It was while she was looking for _him_, that she stumbled—not literally this time—over Eponine.

--

It was the same girl Cosette remembered from her childhood in Montfeirmell, certainly, but different as well. There was something in her manner that had certainly changed. An indpendence, perhaps, or maybe an actual personality… the change was a good one, Cosette reflected. The Eponine she remembered had been a regular little brat.

She met Eponine by chance in the street one day, and the other girl recognized her first. Exclaiming cheerfully over the unexpected discovery in a way Cosette was sure the old Eponine would not have done, she walked with her through the streets as the two told one another of what had transpired since they'd last met. Of course, it was mostly Eponine doing the telling, because Cosete was at least cautious enough not to share that she was wanted for attempted murder with someone who thankfully did not seem to think she was guilty of anything more than the crime she remembered—the theft of a loaf of bread.

Cosette quickly learned that although Eponine's parents still ran the little dungheap—sorry, _inn_—that she had spent five years of year life learning to hate, Eponine had quickly gotten fed up with the was she was being treated, and run off to Paris, where even living on the streets was better.

"A good thing, too!" Eponine had laughed, "Because that's what I have to do!"

"But what do you do here?" said Cosette. "Don't tell me you're stealing now, too, because trust me—it's not worth it."

"I'll have to take your word on that," said Eponine, "But I've got a few odd jobs here and there, laundry or dishes mostly, that I use for a bit of money. And there's something else—do you have to be anywhere at any time today?"

"No-"

"Then come with me," said Eponine, suddenly taking a sharp right turn down an alleyway.

--

That night Cosette returned home late. She gave a half hearted excuse to Valjean when he asked where she had been, despite his worried look that made her feel decidedly guilty, and hurried to her own room.

Eponine, it turned out, was not the only one in Paris who had 'gotten fed up with how she was being treated at home.' Turned out there were a lot of others—girls, for the most part, who had made their escape to Paris, only to find that life was hardly better here.

But to lead a _revolution?!_ That was the truly surprising part, Cosette decided. She never would have pictured Eponine having enough willpower to lead anyone. She was surprisingly good at it, however…

--

Weeks passed. Coseete slowly began to forget about Marius, as she spent more time with Eponine's group, who she was pleasently surprised to find, were an agreeable group of people, although thankfully devoid of the curiousity to ask probing questions as to Cosette's past. Probably a few of them had secrets of their own.

"Guess what!" The whole group had gathered together one day, mostly to talk and such things, when one of the more devoted members of the group ran in to where they were meeting, breathing a bit faster than normal, probably from running.

"What?" Asked Eponine, standing up.

"There's another revolutionary group… thing!"

"There are a lot of revolutions right now," said Eponine calmly, knowing that this particular girl had the tendancy to get worked up over nothing.

"Yea, but this one…" she stopped for a moment to pant. "Well, they meet just down the street, apparently, and a couple of them are getting kind of pissed at us stealing their thunder."

"Well, that's interesting-"

"Their leader wants to meet with you."

"I'm too busy."

"He's _really_ nice looking," said Lucy, shamelessly.

"I don't care."

"What's his name?" said someone else.

"Enjolras."

--

**Groan. That came out so much more corny than I predicted it would… Anyway, at least it's done! Sorry if anyone thought it was exceedingly lame, I just liked the idea of Eponine leading a revolution and even though it came out lame I wanted to keep it in, because most of the story is planned around that. Well, not most...**

**And I actually looked at my reviews for once! Thank you to both reviewers for your kind words... even if FlyHigh is my sister... And speaking of FlyHigh, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! **


	6. Chapter 6

To Cosette's surprise, Eponine actually agreed to meet with the mysterious 'Enjolras' the following Tuesday. Of course, she wanted everyone who had ever shown as much as the slightest interest in 'the cause' to be present, apparently subscribing to the age-old tactic known as _intimidation_.

This was why Cosette—who had overslept rather badly on that particular morning—found herself dashing through the already crowded streets of Paris, ignoring the laughter of those she passed, who seemed convinced that she'd gone off her head.

Now, as anyone who's ever tried it knows, and everyone who's never done so can surely guess, running through a crowded city at full speed is a truly terrible idea. In this case, Cosette had managed to miss three streets she was supposed to turn on, hit every puddle there was (and there were quite a few, due to a heavy rainfall the proceeding night), and crash into _him_.

Again!

For the smallest of instants she was glad to see him, but then she noticed the expression on his face. She didn't pause to wonder why he seemed to be looking at her in hate, but she knew that he was. She jumped up and ran in the opposite direction from where she had been going.

She could hear the heavy footfalls of his boots as he ran behind her, but she was smaller and managed to put several people between the two of them before long. She glanced back. Still there! And only an hour ago she'd been _hoping_ that by some chance she would stumble on him!

A small alley which she had not noticed until she was almost right next to it provided a new escape route and she quickly took it, sighing in releif as her pursuer hurtled past. Her heart slowly calmed, and she began to think through what must have happened. Why would he suddenly hate her, if they hadn't even exchanged two words? Had he suddenly grown a hatred to woman? Did he hate blondes? No, Cosette decided as she discarded both these possibilities as the foolishness that they were. There was only one answer. He knew that she'd tried to murder that boy. Or thought she had, because she still claimed that it was self-defence (well, it _was_!).

But still, why would he care? There were only two options. Either he was related to that kid, and the odds of that were probably tiny, or…

He was with the police.

--

She was extremely late by the time she actually arrived at her originally intended destination, earning herself a glare from Eponine's second in command. Cosette found that this glare, however, was sadly lacking in the ferocity of Eponine's glares, and shrugged it off. There seemed to be a lot more people than usual hanging around today. On top of Eponine's intimidation tactics, Enjolras appeared to have had the same idea, and there were quite a few students looking bored as well.

"Late as well?" asked an unfamiliar voice behind her. Cosette turned to find one of the students standing uncomftorably close.

"Yea," she said, resisting the urge to add something along the lines of 'Well, obviously, I just walked in the door.'

"Glad to hear it," he said. "There are too many people running around the world today, getting to places on time. Good to know you're not among them."

"Well… thanks, I guess…" said Cosette, moving away.

--

She found an empty space nearby and sat down, still contemplating her run-in with _him_ as she waited for Eponine and Enjolras to finish their meeting.

"Why do we even have to wait around here? It's not like they can even tell one way or the other if we're here," said the boy from before, the one who apparently liked lateness, as he sat down beside her.

Why, oh why, did all the boys she did _not_ want to talk to choose today to not leave her alone?!

She gave a noncomitall answer, hoping he would take the hint and go away.

He did not.

"You want to see if they're almost done in there?" he asked.

"Not really," she said.

He looked vaugely surprised. "Why not?"

"Because I don't care if they're almost done." _Especially if it would mean barging into a private meeting with _you.

"We don't even have to go in," he pleaded, as though he had read her thoughts. "We can just look under the door."

"Right. And we won't be kicked out when we're caught," she said.

"We won't," he said, "because we won't be caught. And even if we were, Enjolras wouldn't care. He's very leader-ish and mature and such."

"Eponine would care," muttered Cosette, but reluctantly agreed, more in hope of getting it over with and ditching this boy than out of genuine interest.

There was only one door off the room that everyone was gathered in now, and this was where the boy lead Cosette to. "They're in there," he said. Cosette wondered how he knew, as he'd showed up at the same time as she had, certainly too late to actually see where the two leaders had gone to.

The first words they heard were these—"My revolution is _better_ than your revolution!"

"Oh yes," said Cosette, rolling her eyes at the boy, "Very mature."

He grinned at her, perhaps thinking that she was beginning to show some interest. "Hey, that was _your_ leader."

"No way, our revolution is _way_ better!" came a male voice from behind the door.

"And that was yours," Cosette shot back.

"Fine," grumbled the boy. There was a long pause, with no words coming from either Cosette and her companion, nor the two leaders behind the door. The boy had his ear pressed against the door now. Cosette, looking around akwardly, caught sight of someone else she didn't know rolling his eyes at him, in a way that suggested that this was not at all unusual behavior.

Somehow, this did not make Cosette feel any better.

"What are they _doing_ in there, anyway?" he muttered, before lying flat on the floor and peering through the crack in the door.

"Can you see anything?" asked Cosette, slightly interested now.

"Shoes."

"_That's_ helpful."

She bent and looked through the keyhole, which afforded her a much more useful view of the room. "Oh, _wow_. That was unexpected."

"What?"

She didn't reply.

"_What_?!"

She moved out of the way so he could look.

"Oh!"

He removed his eye from the keyhole and grinned at Cosette. "Bit or romance going on in there. D'you feel like following our great leaders' example later-"

"_No_!" exclaimed Cosette, walking off.

--

**Yea! So long today! Oh, in case you were wondering, random boy who likes looking through keyholes isn't anyone spesific. He's just a random boy who likes to look through keyholes. As for what Eponine and Enjolras were doing, I don't care what you think was going on, use your imagination.**


	7. Chapter 7

Both revolutions built their barricades on the same day, and it was the most chaotic thing Cosette had ever seen. Everywhere there were people yelling and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. It was amazing the anyone stayed alive long enough to make it to the barricades, really.

Cosette was at the barricades, of course. She hadn't thought that things would ever come to be this drastic when she'd first met Eponine again, and she probably wouldn't have gotten involved with any of this if she'd had the faintest hint that this was even possible, but it was too late to back up now—Cosette was more than a little afraid of what Eponine would do if she survived the barricades and found out that Cosette hadn't even shown up.

Besides, it wasn't like 'the cause' Eponine spoke of was such a bad one. There were, after all, worse things to die for than equality for all.

--

Marius was confused. He had been in low spirits since he'd met Cosette again in the streets several months earlier, and didn't know why. He was still inexperienced enough in cases such as this to understand that he was missing Cosette. He barely considered it as a possibility, because, after all, she was a wanted man… woman… whatever. And he didn't know anything about her except her name… and her _crime_.

And… she was going to the barricades…

It was her! Running past on the street with a horde of others, toward the barricades. His heart beating rather quickly, he almost leapt up and followed her, before his brain caught up with the rest of him. He couldn't go to the barricades… they would never let him through…

Unless…

Not completely sure himself why he was so willing to risk his life to see a girl he had managed to persuade himself he _didn't even like_, he jumped up from where he'd been leaning against a building watching the revolutionaries swarm past, and ran in the opposite direction.

--

The fighting at the barricade had calmed a bit by the evening, despite the fact that nothing concrete had been won or lost by either side. It was only now, after the constant barrage of noise, light, and deadly missiles had faded to the occasional pot shot by one side or the other, that Cosette had the chance to rest a bit. To catch her breath. To notice- _him._

He had been watching her, with a cold stare. She moved out of his line of sight, and almost ran into a small boy, coming the other way, looking for once worried.

"Gavroche," she said in surprised recognition. She ought to have known the gamin wouldn't be able to keep far away from fighting of any sort. "What're you-"

"He's a spy," said Gavroche. "That one, over there." Gavroche gestured back the way Cosette had come, towards _him_. "He's from the police."

Cosette felt her spirits droop a bit at the confirmation of what she had only suspected until now. Not for a moment, however, did she think to doubt Gavroche's word. "I know," she said, "I was just going to tell Eponine."

--

Neither Eponine, nor Enjolras (who had not strayed far from her side since their first meeting several months ago) were at all happy when Cosette told them there was a spy in their midst, but there was only one thing to do. Cosette braced herself for the order she knew was coming. "Take care of him."

She nodded, and retreated, not at all sure wheter she would be able to carry it out.

--

Marius was starting to get worried. He was finally beginning to understand something, and the timing was horribly inconvinient. He _loved_ Cosette, in a way that frightened him, and there was not a thing he could do about it. He had thought at first that by seeing her here, at the barricade, seeing her fall before the law, would make him forget… but instead, he had found himself holding his breath everytime a bullet came near her, felt his heart stop, sure that _this_ time, she would not be able to get up, that he would see blood staining her beautiful face, or spreading in a dark stain across her shirt…

It was with decided releif that he heard the bullets slow and eventually cease almost entirely.

He spent the rest of the night staring at Cosette. At least, he would have, if she hadn't gone somewhere he could not see after only an hour or so, only to return, walk straight towards him, and say, in a loud voice, "Come with me, _spy_."

--

They went out of the barricade, but not towards the veritable army that attacked it, where Marius felt he might have some chance of getting help… although, of course, if he did make it through this and return alive, he would be mocked for volunteering for this mere hours before he was caught _by a girl_ and had to call for help.

There was nothing in the place she led him to but shadows. He couldn't even see her face. He could, however, see the shiny, metallic gun that she pointed at him. He could also see that it shook a bit.

"What's your name?" she asked.

What? That was… not right. Why was she asking that? Perhaps she had qualms about killing him… maybe he coud still get out of this! "Marius," he said.

"Marius," she repeated, as though testing his answer for truthfulness. "What are you doing here, Marius?"

"I—I had to see you." Where had _that_ come from? He felt like a child as his cheeks turned a bright red, glad of the shadows.

"Well you have," said Cosette. "And—and I've seen you, which is good because—I wanted to see you too."

_What_?

"I'll probably die here," she said, "I didn't think the fighting would be this bad… but I guess I was just lying to myself… Anyway, as I'll probably not make it out, I wanted to see you first, because I think I've fallen in love with you."

He could practically hear her blushing back. Maybe that was why he found himself saying back, "And I love you."

"That's why I can't kill you," she said, shaking slightly. "They'll know, but I can't—"

At that moment there was a loud shot from back at the barricade, and someone yelled "Gavroche!" There were sudden running feet—pandemonium.

"Go!" yelled Cosette at Marius over the sudden noise. "They won't know, now. Just—just don't come back."

He ran.

--

When Cosette returned to the barricade, she saw a small group of people huddled around Gavroche. There was a a lot of blood over him, and for a moment she thought he was dead. Then she saw the blood was only coming from his ear, which had apparently been grazed by a passing bullet, causing him to bleed heavily and pass out. The blood on the rest of him, she learned later, was from stealing bullets from the bleeding corpses of the enemy.

--

**Sigh. At the last second, I just couldn't kill Gavroche. Probably a lot of people who were supposed to die are going to end up surviving… Oh well!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ugh… This is getting incredibly difficult to write… If I don't manage to finish this soon, I'm going to get bored and kill Marius in an exceedingly violent way…. Actually, that sounds like fun…**

--

Marius had been very depressed ever since Cosette had spared his life at the barrricade. So he decided to go for a walk. Unfortunately, he had hardly stepped out of his front door when a group of robbers stole his money and killed him in an exceedingly violent way.

The end.

--

**Ha ha, that **_**was**_** fun! Okay, on to the real chapter!**

--

Marius had been very depressed ever since Cosette had spared his life at the barricade. That had been a week ago, and his depression was not helped by the information that the barricade had fallen no more than an hour after he'd left—certainly not enough time for Cosette to get out of there… if he even wanted her to… he didn't know _what_ he felt about her anymore! For maybe half an hour, the knowledge that she loved him as well had been enough to keep him in a state so euphoric that he'd wandered halfway across Paris without being aware of where he was. Then reality had begun to set in.

But it didn't matter, because she must be dead, as the barricade had fallen…

Of course, there _had_ been survivors… or had there? Information was rather scarce at the moment, mainly because the day after the barricade, before survivors and bodies had even _begun_ to be identified, the entire place had been over-run by curious bystanders and people moving around on their daily buisness. It was hard to know whether these people were the only ones still alive in the area, or if there were others. Marius couldn't see any way of easily identifying who was who, and more over didn't care.

--

Someone did, though. This was demonstrated rather plainly when Marius was asked the next day to examine a group of people found near the fallen barricade, and see if he could recognize any of them for when he'd beeen 'spying' (oggling Cosette).

Marius had not, actually, noticed very many people while at the barricade other than Cosette. It just so happened, however, that the group he was examining at the moment, included two people he could not have missed seeing. He was unaware of their names, of course, and probably wouldn't have remembered them even if he'd heard them (so much of the night had ended up as a daze after.), but they were Eponine and Enjolras.

He didn't particularly feel like sentencing them to life in prison, mostly because Cosette had trusted them enough to risk her life for their cause…

No. Not because of that. He simply admired their fortitude. He ought to start forgetting Cosette, after all, now that she was almost certainly dead…

But they would know, wouldn't they, if she was still alive? They would know where she was? "I didn't see any of these people at the barricade," said Marius, unaware that the words had left his own mouth until a few minutes later, when the group was herded out of the room.

--

Cosette was not much happier than Marius. She was still alive, although she'd managed to get her arm broken—she wasn't sure exactly how, only that she'd been hit on the head by something, blacked out, and then woken much later with a horrible headache and a twisted arm in the ruins of the barricade, surrounded by bodies.

The source of her sadness came from Gavroche. The little gamin had earned something of a place of honor among the barricade survivors, and so he spent quite a bit of time with them. Cosette, her arm bound in a sling, had returned to the place where the survivors now met, had heard from him that Marius had gone back to the police.

He loved her, and he knew what she was—probably—and if he didn't, he knew that she'd been at the barricade (obviously) and he'd still gone back… he'd chosen his _job_ over her!

Obviously, this was before Eponine and Enjolras returned.

The first night after the two leaders were released from custody was spent getting completely drunk, in a half celebratory, half mourning kind of thing. Very confusing. The high point of the evening was when Enjolras (despite the cat calls and laughter of his equally inebriated friends) proposed to Eponine, and she (despite the cat calls and laughter of same friends) said yes.

The next morning, when people were scraping themselves off the pavement or tables or floors or wherever they had passed out the night before, someone asked the two how they'd gotten out of police custody.

"Funny thing," said Eponine, her gaze flickering for a moment to Cosette, "That police spy, from the barricade—he's still alive, you know," Cosette flinched guiltily but it seemed no one was upset, "He lied, said he didn't know us, let us all go."

"Three cheers for police spies!" said someone—Cosette recognized the boy she'd met (How long ago had it been now? It seemed like years) while they listened to Eponine and Enjolras' first… discussion. He, apparently, was still drunk, and collapsed at once after his nonsensical statement, causing some laughter around the group.

Cosette was happier than she'd been in months. True, Marius had gone back to the police, _but he hadn't betrayed them_. New hope blossomed inside her as she left for home, anticipating a soft bed and pillows, and the first real night's sleep (well, early morning) sleep since the barricade.

--

**The next chapter is the last one! Hooray! I can't believe I got it done in nine chapters… Sorry for the corniness of Eponine/Enjolras' relationship. I /like/ that pairing, and I have a hard time with romance, as I'm sure you can tell from Marius' and Cosette's relationship. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

But despite Cosette's newly hopeful attitude, she did not even see Marius for months. There were two reasons for this, the first being that Valjean was barely allowing her out of the house anymore, citing at first her broken arm, and after it had healed, her rash actions on the day of the barricades.

She spent a lot of her time, therefore, sitting at home and wondering where to look next and if she would be able to find Marius wherever she looked. She also spent more time than she had in years with Valjean, an activity she found she had missed.

The other reason was one she never knew. Marius never came out onto the streets anymore, unless it was to go to work, or do something necessary like buy food. Cosette simply wasn't looking in the right places. It was a complete accident, actually, when she stumbled across him again. She had been doing something—something she could never remember in years to come—when she looked across a busy street, and there he was.

The next few minutes were a blur of pursuit, and the next thing she could remember, she was embracing him, and he had his arms around her… mothers on the street were guiding their children away from the two, but neither cared.

--

Although to others it might seem hasty for Marius to propose to Cosette only two months after this, to the two concerned it seemed completely natural. After all, two months was enough to ask everything that needed asking, and tell everything that needed telling. It was enough time for Cosette to know everything about Marius, and Marius to know everything about Cosette.

They were happy.

Even his job and her past were not enough to postpone the wedding. Neither cared. Marius had even spoken vaugely about given up his job after a year or two and looking into law, something Cosette protested because she knew he loved his job and didn't want him to leave just for her.

--

It was actually a little over a year later that Marius began studying law, after Cosette confronted him one morning and informed him that he should hurry up and make up his mind career-wise because when their son or daughter was born several months from now, the salary he was paid now would go a very short way before it wouldn't be enough to keep food on the table.

Marius, a little weak-kneed at this sudden information, nodded and wandered off in a daze.

Both Marius' grandfather (who was now back in the grandson's good graces) and Valjean had offered the couple financial assistance, but neither liked the idea of living on money others had made. As Marius said, "It takes away independence." Or, as Cosette said, "It takes all the fun out of life."

--

Valjean lived just long enough to see the fifth birthday of Marius and Cosette's third child (their first daughter) before he died peacefully, surrounded by Cosette and her family.

--

The last image of this family that the reader should leave with is this one—The two parents and three children sitting in their youngest child's bedroom along with Valjean (less than a year away from his death at this point) as the younger generation hears for the first time the strange story of how their parents met. No sooner is the story over than the middle child starts talking (at the speed of sound) I might add, the youngest one gets teary over what to her four year old ears constitutes a scary story, Cosette start berating her husband for telling her at such a young age (while he insists it was her idea all along) and their eldest son looks at Valjean and asks if it is all true.

Why this image? Because it so perfectly defines the chaotic but peacefull life that the little family lead for so many years. Only a few minutes after the story ended, everyone had once again calmed, and they sat together in silence and peace.

--

**And it's over. Hopefully someone out there had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Bye now!**


End file.
